Looping in and running out of time: Roy Blair’s "Chasing Moving Trains"

Graphic by Sofia Giarrusso

by Mateo Krygowski

Looping in and running out of time. Five years of silence: now is the time to let it all go.

Roy Blair—I can remember the last time he went live on Instagram in 2019. He had brown hair and drank Topo Chico while playing two rough cuts of his new songs, which appear on his new album as "Hummingbird" and "Strawberry." I was immediately hooked by Roy’s new sound; it seemed that he had found what worked best for him as an artist, which is a remarkable moment to witness as a listener: to hear an artist’s sound finally click into place. However, by the time I was entirely ready for the release of this new album, it all went dark, and so did the rest of the world. I soon drifted off into other music I had never been exposed to and, five years out, I now find myself to be a completely different person since watching his last Instagram live. It has been an intense ride, but at its end, Roy still sounds refreshing as ever.

Within Chasing Moving Trains, there is a rewarding tone to the entire album—one that acknowledges its own hardships and insecurities while dedicating itself to forming some of the strongest melodies and beats Roy has ever created. As a whole, it holds a significant amount of weight. Cat Heaven, Roy’s 2017 album, stands as a coming-of-age piece, confidently written and still entertaining upon a recent revisit. In contrast, Chasing Moving Trains confronts far more layered narratives and conversations which Roy sets up seamlessly.

He opens with "Karaoke," a ballad that soon transforms into a lush collection of reverberating piano chords and slow-moving beats all culminating in an orchestral finish. It feels like a declaration: “Here we are, finally.” Among these refined beginnings, he mentions his influences:

Miami nights, put it in drive (Oh, yeah)
Hit eighty-five, play us Celine Dion
A little Kelela, Every Little Step
Dangerously in Love, Starflyer 59.

Such a confession and appreciation for these artists is a subtle yet significant part of the album's entrance. The entire piece is scattered with references to other artists whom Roy seems to be infatuated with, prominently in "Karaoke," which hints at Stereolab in its final moments. "Belmont," "Rain," and "Strawberry" all sound distantly inspired by Guitar, Brandy, and Seefeel. Yet, beyond these influences, Roy truly ventures beyond merely copying these artists and creates a sound that is entirely his own.

On "Belmont," he nearly soars into a shoegaze, James Ivy-adjacent riff that settles into a melancholic instrumental break, repeating its lyrics in a hopelessly defeated manner:
“I know we're stubborn, always blame each other / But this time, I admit I rushed you into it.”

A gratifying and singular quality permeates the final rhythm of "Belmont." I sense that this is particularly special to Roy. He has been waiting for this moment, as if to say goodbye to all he has created before now. Falling in and out of love, fractured by its intensity, he leaves with a newfound revelation: Roy becomes an adult.

Between these devoted rhymes and swells of orchestral developments intertwined with brilliantly catchy breakbeats, Roy finds himself at the latter half of Chasing Moving Trains. On "Rain" he discovers his truest tempo, awakening with a warm tone against the sound of rain. Reflective, acknowledging all the time that has passed, he moves into the unknown.

The soft, two-tone bell chime initiates the song and gradually invites a satisfying disposition into frame. At its peak, Roy cries out his lyrics, knowing there won’t be an answer waiting for him:

I can't find the strength
In me to let you go
I'm too afraid of the unknown
But I belong somewhere out there
Scared of out there
But I care when out there
So out there is where I'll be.

Once again, he has been waiting to say these words. It feels as though it has been forever, and his delivery conveys a melancholic tinge that I believe defines the entire album.

Chasing Moving Trains is Roy Blair’s strongest body of work to date— within this fully developed album lies a deeply personal piece of Roy that we as listeners haven’t witnessed up until now. Racing through that Amberwood, it only really was a dream. Staring through that Panavision lens, I’ll make it come true. A 10/10 album, easily one of the better releases of this year.